


Minds To Sleep

by ibasedrandomness



Series: Heartbreakers [5]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon, Anger, Angst, Depression, M/M, Multi, Post-Canon, Teen Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-25 22:27:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12045588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ibasedrandomness/pseuds/ibasedrandomness
Summary: [ the italics are flashbacks ]





	Minds To Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> [ the italics are flashbacks ]

Otabek could only watch as the strongest person he knew fell to the ground in horror and agony. There was something in his face, something in his eyes that wasn’t right and Beka could only stare, stammer out a few words because he didn’t know what to do. Something like this wasn’t supposed to happen, Yura was strong, so full of fire and life but now he was broken and his skin was pale and Beka didn’t know what to do—could only watch.

Yuri’s phone slipped out of his hand and onto the floor with a thud so loud it could rival a gunshot in the quiet of the room. He was trembling, his bottom lip quivering as the life seeped from his eyes, followed by salty crystalline tears, of which left wetness down his cheeks and chin before falling to his shirt and disappearing into the fabric. They didn’t stop, came twice as fast and twice as hard and for a second he couldn’t breathe as his chest felt like it had caved in, like his lungs no longer worked like he wanted. He could barely register the words being shouted at him in panic and as he wrapped his arms around himself and screamed, it felt as if the world had finally gone black.

“ _Yuri, are you alright?!_ ” Otabek could hear Yakov still on the line and as he stood he wondered briefly if he should take the phone. Find out what had happened for himself. “ _Yura!_ ” Yakov wailed, cracks in his gruff voice. He’d been crying too, Otabek realized, and in that short span of time, he scrambled to the floor frantically, his knees hitting the wood hard as he grabbed the phone in a panic. His own breathing was shallow and rushed, coming from his chest in huffs and he was shaking, his fear evident in every way he moved.

“Yakov, sir, what’s going on? Yura- I don’t- what the hell is going on?” he felt like crying, the sound of Yuri in so much pain sent shivers passing through him and he just wanted to hug him and make it all go away but he didn’t know how to make it stop. Something like this was _never_ supposed to happen—Yura was strong. None of it made sense, none of it and he was growing furious because of the absurdity of it all.

“Otabek, is that you?” Yakov asked. His tone of voice was nothing like Beka was used to, it was too small, too _something_. It wasn’t right. Something was wrong, so fucking wrong. “Listen, I need you listen carefully, please son—”

Beka heard him, tried to listen, tried to comprehend but the words were so unfamiliar he almost thought Yakov was speaking a different language. The tears he tried to hold back finally fell and as he hung up the call, letting the phone drop to the floor with no remorse, he cursed. He fucking cursed any and everybody who let this happen. He cursed the whole goddamned world.

 

_5 days later…_

 

            Yuri tried to tell himself he hated this tie, but as he fastened it in the mirror before him, he couldn’t bring himself to care enough to hate it as much as he wanted.

            _‘It brings out your eyes’_ Viktor had told him that one time, handing it to him with that stupid heart shaped smile of his, his eye crinkling at the ends and why Yuri was thinking of that now he didn’t know. What he did know, though, was that he wanted to fucking die. He wanted to leave this accursed world and all the dumb fuckers in it, blame them for what happened but he stopped those thoughts immediately; Yuuri wouldn’t want him thinking this way, would hug him and tell him to banish such thoughts like he didn’t think the same things himself. Yuuri never wanted others to think like he sometimes did, feel like he did because he was Yuuri and Yuuri was a good person. Such a good fucking person.

He was grabbing the only watch he had when Mila entered, hair pinned up; she didn’t have makeup on, perhaps not to ruin it. “Are you ready, Yura?”

“I can’t get this stupid watch on,” he said, annoyance in his tone as he tried to fasten the silver watch on his wrist. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking no matter how hard he tried to stop them, they were cold and clammy and wouldn’t do what he wanted and he was growing wickedly pissed. Nothing ever seemed to go the way he wanted, the way it should’ve gone.

“I’ll do it,” Mila said, walking over to him and she took his hands in hers, skin cold, and no warmth to be found. Was it always this cold here in Hasetsu, was he always shivering?

            “Thanks,” he said, almost whispered but he didn’t look up at her. He didn’t want to see how her eyes were as red as his, didn’t want to see evidence of her pain and so, he looked at their hands and only their hands.

**-**

            They finally left when the Katsuki’s got there; just over thirty of them, in separate cars but together. All for one reason. The shittiest reason, Yuri thinks, sitting in the back seat, sandwiched between Georgi and Mila and he wonders for a moment if he could just leave. Leave and feel all this alone in a place where no one could see him—he’d already embarrassed himself once in front of Beka and he wasn’t going to let that happen again.

            He looked up to see Yakov through the rearview mirror, saw how the wrinkles around his eyes had become far more prominent over the last week, how what was left of the light in them had now faded completely but he looks away before that moment becomes too long. Before his brain can think up what Yakov could possibly be thinking, before he could think of how it might feel to have the closest thing to a son be taken from you before you could even find the courage tell them how you truly feel.

**-**

Mari is the first to notice his watch, a silver one with leopard print leather straps, the only watch he’s ever worn and probably the only one he ever will.

“I was there when he brought it home,” she said to him quietly as she came to sit beside him after the ceremony, her voice is hoarse, barely even there. “He was so excited.” The black of her kimono makes her pale skin stand out, the dark circles and the red of her eyes even more obvious and he wondered, suddenly and uncharacteristically self-conscious, if his black suit did the same.

She tries to smile, but she couldn’t even manage a twitch and he stay’s quiet, unsure of what to say or where to look so he stares at his watch and says “Okay.”

She laughs softly, fiddling with her hands and it the saddest laugh he’s ever heard and he doesn’t know how to comfort her. He knows nothing he says could stop the pain, she was his sister, knew him far better than Yuri ever could and a part of him is sorry for not knowing enough.

_“A watch,” Yuri says in distaste, staring at the box in his hands incredulously. “Why would I need a watch?”_   

_Yuuri smiles at him, eyes squinting and his cheeks much fuller now that it’s Christmas and Yuri can only think of one thing as he looks at him—piggy. “I thought,” he says, adjusting his glasses like the dork he is. “That maybe you could use it, I’ve never seen you with one and when I saw it I thought of you.”_

_Yuri knows his cheeks are bright red from embarrassment, can feel the heat coming off his neck and he’s flustered, just like that. Stupid piglet. He laughs, almost scoffing, to distract Yuuri from the state he’s in. “Seriously?”_

_“Well I-” he starts, blush coming to his cheeks in blotches but then the old man is there, his arm around Yuuri’s shoulder and suddenly he’s the slightest bit annoyed._

_“Yurio!” Viktor practically shouts, his blue eyes ablaze behind his silver fringe and Yuri stifles a groan._

_“That’s not my fucking name,” he spits and turns to leave, pretending he doesn’t hear their confused remarks behind his back and as he looks down at the hard plastic box in his hand, silver watch with leopard print leather straps inside, he smirks fondly before placing it in his jacket pocket._

“I’m sorry,” he finds himself saying and for a moment he’s not sure if she heard but then she looks up at him, tears brimming in her eyes and he curses the pilot, curses the whole goddamn airline company at the sight of her. He knows it not his fault but he can’t help it.

“Yurio, you…you have nothing to be sorry for.” Mari shakes her head and a tear falls because of it. He stares at it as it falls from her cheeks and onto her black kimono and suddenly he’s cold again, his hands balling in his lap. He doesn’t tell her off, doesn’t say that it’s not his name because it is. Viktor gave it to him, Yuuri gave it to him and he’s never going to deny that again. They’re gone now and it’s one of the few things he has left of them.

She stands suddenly, seemingly unable to hold back her tears any further and she clutches her mouth to silence a sob. “Excuse me.”

He watches her as she leaves, scurrying off to some secluded place and he swallows the lump lodged in his throat, sending his head flying back to stop his own tears from falling.

**-**

Jean-Jacques Leroy couldn’t possibly be any more annoying than he was at this moment, striding over with a dumb look on his face. Yuri chooses not to hide his growing vexation at his presence; he rolled his eyes, tugging the headphones from his ears. “What do you want JJ?”

JJ ignores his question, shifting to lean against the wall behind him as he stuffed his hands in his pockets and Yuri has a plethora of rude remarks to say but he gives up before he could even get started, he isn’t in the mood. He makes to ignore JJ's presence, looking out at everyone as they walk awkwardly around the onsen, either talking or comforting or just being still but then JJ had to open his stupid mouth.

“A plane crash,” he said, shaking his head with a frown. Yuri could see him from the corner of his eye but he refuses to look at him, in fear that he might strike him across the face. “It’s a goddamn shame.” He stays quiet for a moment. “What was it called? The play they went to see.”

“I don’t know,” he said curtly, his grip tightening around his phone in mild frustration. He didn’t want to talk about it. Not now. Not ever. And especially not with JJ.

“No bodies found either, crazy huh?”

“What the fuck do you want JJ?” he asks furiously, turning to look at him fully now. He ignores the way his phone digs into his fingers, his knuckles white from how tightly he’s gripping the device. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, huh?”

Startled, JJ puts his hands up in surrender. “I just want some answers,”

“And you think that I’d have them?!” he’s practically yelling now, almost a weeks’ worth of pent up anger and fury finally tipping over and gushing out of him but he hardly feels sorry for JJ. That asshole. What type of sick questions were these anyway? “Just fucking piss off!”

“Look, I know you’re hurt, Yuri, we all are, but just chill for a second, yeah?”

Yuri scoffs, nearly laughing hysterically right in his face. “Tch, _chill_? Are you serious right now?”

It’s Beka who comes over to stops the confrontation before it could get even more out of hand. “Yura,” he says, placing a hand on his shoulder to pull him back but Yuri shakes it off, so completely and utterly furious— _livid!_ —and his hands tremble at his sides.  

“No, fuck this. I don’t need this.” He snaps before pushing past them both. He can feel the tears prickling at his eyes, can feel how his lips are quivering and he doesn’t want the tears to fall but they do anyway. That makes him even more pissed off.

-

He doesn’t get home back to Russia until the weekend and when he steps foot into his grandfather’s house he goes straight up to his room, looking to be alone in the dark of the only place he finds comfort that isn’t an ice rink. He stays up for hours scouring the internet in search of it, refusing to come down for dinner when called—he simply didn’t have the appetite.

_“You should come with us, Yura, it’s a very nice play,” Viktor tells him over the phone. He can hear the smile on his lips as he speaks, can even picture it. Heart shaped and stupid as ever._

_“I think I’ll pass,”_

_“It’s called The Red Tulip! Contemporary and not really that famous but it’s simply wonderful—Yuuri loves it too.” Viktor states, obviously having not heard a single word Yuri said to him._

_Yuri scoffs and rolls his eyes. Typical. “Isn’t it, like, all the way in America?”_

_“Yes,” Yuri can picture him waving his hand dismissively. “But it’s no big deal, we travel for a living.”_

_He hums in response, finding a stray piece of…something far more interesting than a contemporary play. Viktor continues, “It’s about a—”_

_“Viktor, I’ll pass. I have a lot of homework to do this weekend anyway.” he cuts him off, ready to get off the phone so he can get that sing-song voice of Viktor’s out of his ear._

_Viktor audibly deflates, “Ah, that’s too bad.” He sighs and Yuri pictures him packing already, ready to go._

_“Is that Yurio?” he hears over the phone, just barely, but then the voice gets louder; he figures Yuuri took the phone from the old man. “Hi, Yuri!”_

_“Piglet.” he acknowledges._

_“Are you coming with us? Should we come and get you?”_

_“No, I’ve got homework.”_

_“Oh, well we’ll see you when we get back, okay? I’ll make sure we get you lots of souvenirs.”_

_Yuri smiles despite himself and rolls his eyes. “Sure, whatever. See you when you get back.”_

When he finds it he stares at the screen and then suddenly he’s cold again, his hand trembling as it hovers just over the mouse pad. He starts to panic, his breathing becoming shallow just like the day everything went to shit and he stares at it and the video stares right back.

The Red Tulip.

That stupid fucking play. The play that got them both killed.

He should’ve gone, should’ve been there with them to watch it and maybe, just maybe if he had something might’ve changed. They could be here right now, here with him and he’d have their souvenirs to add to his collection. A collection that would never grow because they’re fucking gone, their bodies at the bottom of the ocean and he can’t do shit about.

He slams his laptop closed and shoves it off his bed, letting it fall and hit the floor and then he’s crying again. He wants to stop crying but he can’t. His body won’t do as it’s told.

_“We’ll see you when we get back, okay?”_

Yeah right.

He’s hurt and he’s angry and confused and he’s sad and he should’ve just gone with them to that stupid fucking play.  

**Author's Note:**

> mama has a headache lol anyways:
> 
> The music that helped me write this :  
> Conan Gray | [I Know A Place](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DIqngAXHzTI)  
> Tyler Joseph | [Save](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QaTsWYjGVT0)  
> Christina Aguilera | [Hurt](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=___l8Y21yNM)  
> Sadly two of them can't be found on Spotify so they won't be on the playlist :(
> 
> I wasn't gonna post this but my beta (?) *inserts eyes emoji here* said that I should ♥


End file.
